


Acceptance

by TastesLikeCream



Series: Here in My Heart [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Baby Fíli and Kíli, Dwarves In Exile, Dís Feels, F/F, Female Bilbo, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Implied Relationships, Nice Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, POV Dís
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:59:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5258255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TastesLikeCream/pseuds/TastesLikeCream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In exile Dís finds herself in a market face to face with a hobbit. A hobbit who has decided this dwarf needs help and they are the one to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> As I said, slowly working on moving all my works over to this name. I'm avoiding all my bigger works like my Bilbo/The Line of Durin and the Fate of a Hobbit. 
> 
> Current ages of Fili and Kili: 
> 
> Fili: 5
> 
> Kili: 3 months

“Do you have a place to stay?”

To another dwarf this would be, should be an easy answer. Yes or no, a nod or shake of the head would suffice. But to ask Dís this, the creature may as well walk up and speak Khuzdul. She attempts to bounce Kili who despite this continues wailing. Fili is quiet, clutching faithfully at her skirts.

The creature she decides must be one of the hobbits, read to her from the big story books by their grandfather in childhood.  Her face is bare. But the tops of her feet and toes are covered with hair and enormous; not seeming the least bit bothered by the cold air. The question comes again and this time she winces as if physically struck.

“No.” Dis sighs. “I’ve no coin. No food. My children are hungry, tired and dirty. As am I. And I will not sell myself or my children.”

The hobbit seems completely unaware of Kili’s wailing and now Fili staring at her groceries. She doesn’t glance over the filthiness of their clothes, the ragged braids or smudged faces. She turns with a small spin to her step and motions for them to follow after her.  

“Amad?” Fili tugs on her skirts. “I’m hungry.”

In her arms Kili pauses in his wailing to sniffle. There is mucus on his face and something settles heavy in her stomach. Fili tugs on her skirt again and Dís nods, running a hand over his tangled hair.

“I know my lion. But we will have food soon.” She does not tack on that she hopes. Grabbing hold of Fili’s hand she hurries to follow after the hobbit that moves assuredly through the crowded market. The hobbit walks silently through the market, waiting until they are out of the market before she speaks. First she sighs and then stretches loudly, popping her back.

“I’ve plenty of room in Bag End; the house my father built for my mother. My parents saved my bassinet unless you would prefer he sleep in the bed.”

Dís stays silent, too embarrassed to admitting to sharing a bed at the inns and on the road. And the hobbit does not push for an answer. The only sounds between them are Kili’s crying and Fili asking if they are there yet and that his feet hurt. Repeatedly she shrugs as best she can. And then she is staring at endless yards full of hobbits.

Mothers sit on benches, talking quietly with babies attached to their breasts. At their feet children weave flower crowns while others play. There are groups and groups of them she notices. Not just sets of one or two but four, five. Couples walk past them, holding hands with their heads bowed closely. Others walk alone with armfuls of flowers, baskets or smoking pipes. Still each of them pauses in their task to stare.

“Are all hobbits so open in their curiosity?” Dís asks.

“Over an unexpected guest in the Shire? I expected much more nosiness.”

They are approaching what Dís would call a burrow, complete with a round green door. Standing in front of said ‘burrow’ is another hobbit. This one wields a brightly colored umbrella and clothes, an extravagant hat pinned to her hair.

“You come with guests after I was invited for tea?” She has a nasal voice. “Are you so rude Bilbo Baggins?”

“Please allow me to introduce you to Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. Lobelia this is - my goodness. I didn’t get your name.”

“Dís and my children, Fili and Kili.”

It satisfies Lobelia who pushes past Bilbo and opens the door. Bilbo rolls her eyes but says nothing, following her inside anyways. Dís steps over the threshold as if her grandfather will be on the other side, clutching Fili’s hand tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Dís says quietly. “I have to feed him.”

She wonders then why she feels a need to explain herself to Lobelia who unpins her hat. Bilbo has disappeared down one of the hallways, leaving them together. Dropping Fili’s hand; Dís reaches for her tunic, tugging it down and lifting Kili to her breast. He latches on easily but there is nothing left in her body and again Kili wails.

Frustration swells in her chest and she lets out a sniffle of her own; shoulders shaking as tears well in her eyes.

“I can’t feed him.” The words come out wobbly and thick and then she is crying.

“We’ll have none of that,” Lobelia snaps, hands on her hips. “Bilbo has some goats’ milk. You are not the first mother in the Shire unable to feed. Come on then.”

It is the most comfortable she can remember feeling in a long time. Kili has stopped wailing and is sucking greedily on the nipple of his bottle. Fili sits on what little room her lap has available, stuffing cookies into his mouth and spilling milk down his chin. He pauses after each drink to wipe his mouth on his already filthy sleeve.

Bilbo and Lobelia talk as if is completely normal. As if there are no homeless, smelly dwarves sitting at the table. Eventually Lobelia leaves with a silver spoon stuffed into her pocket Dís notices. By now it is becoming dark outside. Fili is leaning heavily against her neck and Kili snoring quietly.

“I’ve cleaned a guest room for you. I hope the bed is large enough for all of you.” Bilbo’s cheeks are flushed. “I’ve some clothes for you too.”

The rest floats directly over her head. It’s all too much. First the warmth of the house and then the food and now a bed. And with it clothes. Fresh clothes.

* * *

 

Life with Bilbo is strange at first. Seven meals a day; available at her disposal. At mealtimes Fili devours plate after plate, stopping only when warned he will become ill. Kili no longer wails from the hunger but from gas pains, a new welcome cry.

Dís bathes every night with real soaps and soaks with little interruption. She sinks until her chin is brushing her chest and listens to the sounds of Bilbo and her sons.

But despite all of this, despite the warmth of Bilbo and the slow friendship of the other mothers in the Shire, Dís doesn’t dare relax. She counts the days and watches the pounds Fili and Kili put on, their smiles and laughter. She is waiting for the inevitable kick out, for Bilbo to realize the truth. Their talks are limited to the children, to Bilbo’s family, Shire life and their plans for the day.

She decides to beat Bilbo to the task. Dís waits until a windy night in which both Fili and Kili are sleeping heavily. There are no chances of them waking; Fili snuggled beneath the heavy quilts and Kili in his new bassinet. She can hear Bilbo in the kitchen wandering around and the whistle of a tea kettle.

“Care for some tea?” Bilbo asks at the sounds of her anxious footsteps.

“No thank you,” Dís murmurs. “Could I speak with you?”

Bilbo’s hum is steady as she pours her tea. Dís sits down, crossing her ankles and then uncrosses them, thinking of just how much time she will have to get out.

“I am Dís, daughter of daughter of Thráin, son of Thrór, the king under the mountain. The princess of Erebor. In our race children are rare and appreciated. I have two brothers, Thorin and Frerin to carry on the line. There are needs though and political marriages are needed. His name was Hrafn from the Iron Hills.”

“Did he mistreat you?” Bilbo asks as she sits down across from her.

“No.” Dís shakes her head. “He was handsome and warm enough. It was not what we wished for though. There was a respect for the other and what we did. I married him and our wedding night gave us Fili. A celebration and night of drinking brought us Kili. Seeing him with Fili and Kili brought happiness and joy but still it was still not enough. There was a captain of the guard.”

“In my childhood she was Thorin’s friend. But we had grown close and when Hrafn went to the Iron Hills, she and I spent a night together. Another guard became aware and informed my grandfather. He was infuriated and demanded to know who the other dwarf was. I refused to out her. In front of the entire courtroom he cut my marriage braid and exiled me.”

“And your children?” Bilbo’s voice is wobbling.

“Frerin and Thorin attempted to reason with him. But my grandfather made the accusation that Fili and Kili were not Hrafn’s.”

Canvassing the table Bilbo comes around and wraps her arms around Dís’ shoulders. She is warm and plump, solid and sturdy. She goes easily into Bilbo’s arms and lets herself be rocked back and forth. Her robe smells of tea and bread dough, of honey and soap. There is a brushing of lips against the crown of her head, careful and soft.

“When I was exiled I had nothing to my name but some coins, some jewelry and my children. The coin is spent. The jewelry pawned. And my children - how am I to build a life for them?”

“In hobbit culture it is believed we all begin from ash and dirt. From there it is the duty of our family to raise us. Through that we learn our skills, our trades and become hobbits.”

Dís leans against Bilbo’s stomach, sniffling. One of Bilbo’s hands strokes up and down her back. She is leaning down to close the distance between them. Bilbo kisses on her forehead, cheeks, and her nose.

“The boys.” Dís murmurs.

“We’ll teach them acceptance.” Bilbo says and is then kissing her.

Dís can taste tea and some of the wine snuck after dinner. Her lips part and then Dís can taste cookies and lingering honey. Pulling away she stares at Bilbo, face full of acceptance and lets herself fall forward until their foreheads touch.

**Author's Note:**

> I just love these two, okay? 
> 
> A lot.


End file.
